Risk It All
by StarWarrior72
Summary: Risk it all/ 'Cause I'll catch you if you fall/ Wherever you go/ If my heart was a house, you'd be home -Owl City "If My Heart Was A House"


I watched my hand arc away in stunned amazement. I had seen my own lightsaber, also gone with my hand, I realized, cut through some very dense things, including stormtroopers, but I had never imagined anything cutting so easily through my own flesh.

I stared at the cauterized flesh, hearing myself screaming.

Then Vader's voice cut through the pain, deep and painfully familiar, but somehow soothing at the same time, "Obi-Wan never told you what happened to your father."

It was so clearly a statement that I shivered. How could he know what Obi-Wan had or hadn't told me? I forced myself to answer, "He told me enough. He told me you killed him."

I clung to the vane with my left arm, managing a semi-controlled drop onto a ring just below the bar I'd been on.

Vader reached out towards me, and I had the strangest feeling he was preparing to catch me if I fell.

"No. I am your father."

Everything I'd learned to be screamed against that, but somewhere under that, something I couldn't learn _not_ to be answered him instead. My voice wasn't working right, I'd done everything I could to silence it so I would stop screaming, but I found myself crawling back onto the beam, trying to reach his outstretched hand.

My mind was spinning, a jumble of existence, but one thing kept swirling closer and closer: my longing for my father, for a person who would care for me above almost all others. A person who would love me, not in spite of my failures, but because of them.

I moved into reach of his hand, and he carefully steadied me, trying to lift me to safety. I shook my head, needing to finish the journey alone.

He accepted that, and let me continue, until I managed my three-limbed struggle close enough to lean against him. Then I let myself fall against him, pressing my face, which felt far too hot, against the cool leather of his knee.

He stood there for a moment, his hand in my hair. I closed my eyes and tried to block out the pain. His hand was moving very slowly, as if trying to smooth my hair a bit. I focused on that caring motion, and the pain receded a little bit.

Then he bent down and lifted me, holding me with such gentleness that I couldn't quite believe he was the same man whose torture still made Leia shiver uncontrollably whenever she heard his name.

He kept my legs held tightly with one arm, supporting my upper body against his own. I let myself whimper once, and I felt such an overwhelming wave of tenderness and worry pour forth that I felt myself smile, in spite of the pain. He gently guided my stump to rest against the metal chest plate, and I gasped at how cold it was.

His head tipped to the side, as though he was about to ask me a question, but he remained silent, save for his harsh breathing.

"It hurts," I whimpered.

He was silent another moment, then, "I know, Son."

"I want it to stop hurting," I told him.

"I'm sure you do."

"Do you have a blaster with you?"

"I won't shoot you, Child."

"No," I gasped as my stump was jostled and it slid against a bump in the metal, scraping agonizingly, "I meant to stun me."

"Stunning might cause just as much damage," he answered, "I don't want you in a coma for the rest of your life."

"Father?" I asked, wanting to say the word almost as much as I wanted to ask my question.

"Yes, Luke?"

"If I _were_ to go into a coma, what would you do?"

"I would do everything in my power to get you back."

"Oh," I felt a comfortable warm rise in my chest, "What if there was nothing you could do?"

"I would stay by your side. I've heard it said that some people who fall into comas can hear everything that happens. I would stay with you."

"When would you turn off the machines?" I asked, my voice feeling very small.

"I never would, Son," then, almost as if to himself, "I never would."

I smiled again, closing my eyes and pressing against his shoulder, which was as soothingly cool as the rest of his uniform. I could sense his concern, and I was extremely glad to have it.

When I didn't speak for several minutes, until we were out of the area in which we'd dueled, he spoke.

"You'll be all right, Luke."

I nodded. I knew, somehow, that he would protect me. He really would stay by my side if I were to go into a coma. He really never would turn off the machines.

"Father?"

"Yes, Luke?"

I sighed, "I'm sorry."

"You're sorry? What do _you_ have to be sorry for?" he asked, sounding incredulous.

"I never… we didn't… I haven't been a very good son," I mumbled.

"Luke, calm down. You're becoming hysterical. We're nearly to the hospital now. They'll sedate you and treat you. You'll feel better afterwards, I promise."

I nodded and closed my eyes, feeling warm, and safe, and, against all odds, comfortable in his arms.

"Luke," he scolded, "I told you, you're not allowed to fall asleep."

I yawned, pressing closer, "But I haven't slept properly since," another yawn interrupted me, "I started training."

Father gave me a slight squeeze, "Stay awake. It's only a few more feet now."

I yawned and wrapped my left arm around his neck. He gently made sure that I stayed awake until we reached the hospital. Then he carefully carried me into a private room, where he put me on the cot and summoned a doctor.

As the droid entered, Father turned back to me.

"You're in good hands now, Luke."

I nodded, and he turned to leave. The droid rolled up what was left of my right sleeve and moved to inject me with a sedative.

"Father!"

He turned back to me.

"You said you'd stay with me."

I felt him smile, and he returned to me, taking my hand and squeezing it gently, "I'm with you, Luke."


End file.
